


Highway 25

by Angela_Jahnel



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Beating, Blood and Gore, Cheating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Horror, Language, One Shot, Suspense, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angela_Jahnel/pseuds/Angela_Jahnel
Summary: A woman is stalked by a truck driver.  What does he want?





	Highway 25

“You bastard!”, I hissed between clenched teeth.

I sat in my car with the seat laid back, peeking out the window and trying to look inconspicuous. There was Cody, strolling toward the motel with a bleach-blonde clinging to him, laughing at some joke I couldn’t hear. His hand stroked along her hip and she pushed her scantily-clad body closer to him. Her massive breasts squeezed up out of her tank top, threatening to overflow.

“You’d think she’d freeze her ass off in those short-shorts,” I muttered peevishly from the safety of my car. 

Was she a hooker? Maybe just some woman he picked up at a bar? It didn’t matter really. His intentions were as plain as day. 

Husband+ Hooker+ Hotel = A No-Brainer

I ground my teeth in frustration as they walked into the office. A few minutes later, they came back out and headed to one of the rooms close to the office. Before Cody could even unlock the door, the woman was pressing against him, her arms wrapped around his neck. She kissed him in a way she probably assumed was scorchingly passionate. From where I was sitting, it looked like she was trying to swallow his whole damn face. 

“Why, Cody? Why would you do this to me?” 

I fought back tears, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. I refused to cry over this cheating piece of crap. He wasn't worth it. I unclenched my hands and stared at the crescent-shaped indents my fingernails left in my palms. I wasn’t brave enough to get out of the car and actually confront him, so I just sat there and watched. I’m so pathetic. You’d think I’d be stronger, braver, but I'm not. I’m a big woman, nearly 6 feet tall. I’ve always intimidated guys, but not Cody. That’s the reason I agreed to go out with him eight years ago. When I first met him, I couldn’t believe he was interested in me. He was tall, handsome, athletic, smart. He was a Geology professor at the local community college. He said he liked tall, strong women. Well, that must have been a lie because the little blonde with him now was neither tall nor did she look strong. Her scrawny arms looked like spaghetti noodles and they were currently wrapped around my damn husband!

“Calm down, girl,” I whispered to myself. 

I took a few calming breaths, trying to prevent a panic attack. I only had them occasionally, but they were terrifying. My heart would race, my breathing would speed up, I’d break out in a cold sweat. Sometimes, I’d get light-headed and have to breathe into a paper bag. It was embarrassing, especially if it happened while I was out in public, and it also made me feel weak. 

My attention was drawn back to the hotel, where I saw Cody and the whore stroll inside the room. They were laughing as they closed the door. They made sure to leave a little "Do Not Disturb" sign dangling from the doorknob. I couldn't just sit there. My brain was imagining what they were doing in that room. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel harder. I decide to go back to the house and chew his ass out when he finally showed up. I added a mental reminder to make a doctor’s appointment and get checked for any STD’s that Cody may have brought home. I’m glad I’ve got an understanding doctor because this is the fifth time I’ve had to get checked in the last seven years. It horrifies me to think of how many women he’s slept with that I don’t know about.

“This is the last damn time, Cody!”, I shouted bravely from inside my car. “Last time, I caught you screwing one of your students!”.

I wanted to tear out of the parking lot, tires screaming on the asphalt. It might have helped me vent some of my rage. Instead, I quietly backed out of my parking spot and headed to the house like a good, law-abiding citizen. I'm so damn pathetic.

The drive to our neighborhood was a blur. I could barely see through the tears that I fought, and failed, to control. I finally gave in to a small fit of temper as I got closer to the house. I sped down the street, then whipped into our driveway with a screech of tires. I narrowly missed Cody’s decorative rock garden, and for once I didn't give a damn. I didn’t have to worry about disapproving looks from the neighbors because we didn’t have any. The car idled as I sat in the driveway for a moment, waiting on the garage door to open. It gave me a moment to try and calm my chaotic thoughts.

It was Cody’s idea to move to Cheyenne a few years ago. He wanted a fresh start and a brand new house in a new development. We ended up choosing a house in a cul-de-sac, which was the only house currently finished. All around us, there was nothing but empty lots and a couple of half-finished houses. I remember stepping out of the car and admiring the new house. It was a pretty two-story, dusty blue and cream with decorative stonework around the bottom. There wasn’t a yard yet, or a fence, or any trees. 

I was already homesick for my family in Casper, but I tried to think positively. We could decorate the new house, landscape it and make it our own. We could build a new life here. I looked around again and my positive thoughts struggled to survive. The whole neighborhood was a barren wasteland, with only a few half-completed houses breaking up the monotony.

“Cody, are you sure about this? It’s out in the middle of nowhere. It’ll be kind of depressing to be out here by myself all day… and it’s kind of spooky too.”

“You’re such a scaredy cat,” he joked, playfully poking my arm. “I’ll put in a security system, if it makes you feel safer, but there’s nobody out here to rob us.”

“Are you sure we can afford it? I’m sure I can get a job working for a local bank. I did a great job where I used to work. I know they’d give me a good reference.”

Cody’s face darkened and his hands clenched reflexively. He tersely replied, “You don’t need a job. I make enough money to support you. Are you doubting my ability to be a good provider?”

“No, Cody, that’s not what I meant,” I rushed to explain, “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

His shoulders seemed to relax and he flashed me a big grin. “It’s ok, babe, I’ll take care of you, and all you have to do is take care of the house. Don’t worry, the other houses will be finished in no time. You’ll have lots of neighbors, probably driving you nuts with their barking dogs and loud stereos,” he laughed. 

A year went by and the neighborhood was still the same. No new houses at all, and the half-finished ones were starting to rot from being exposed to the elements. We finally found out the builder was caught dealing drugs, and he went to prison. The land, the unfinished houses, the equipment, and everything he owned was now tied up in a legal battle, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting new neighbors anytime soon. 

The house never really felt like a home, just a place I was living. Cody refused to let me decorate it. He said I had no taste, and that he’d do a much better job of decorating. 

I’d never felt so alone in my entire life. It was Cody’s idea to move away from my relatives in Casper, Wyoming. He said they were all toxic and that I didn’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I don’t remember them being all that bad, but Cody said I didn’t recognize the signs because I’d grown up in such an unhealthy home environment. He said the only friend I needed was him. He was a good friend and husband...for a while.

Funny how things never last. Once Cody got me away from my family, the verbal abuse started, then he started hitting me. I was shocked at first, but Cody always found a way to blame it on me. It was my fault I ruined his birthday, because I didn’t cook his favorite meal. It was my fault his favorite football team lost, because obviously I was a jinx. At least the cool Wyoming weather gave me an excuse to wear long sleeves and scarves so I could hide the bruises. 

After a while, the cashiers at the grocery store started asking questions about the marks on my face and neck. I was a tom-boy as a kid. I was never any good with makeup, so I had no clue what to buy or how to apply it in order to hide the bruises. Eventually, I learned how to conceal even the worst injuries. Cody finally decided that he would do all the grocery shopping, since those “busy-bodies” couldn’t keep their mouths shut. That had been one of the only reasons I got to go to town, and now it was gone. People used to stare at me, but I still miss that little bit of human contact. It was nice to occasionally chat with the locals. It was the only human contact I had, except for Cody.

I shook my head and wiped angrily at the tears I had promised myself I wouldn't shed. Steeling my nerves, I decided to park right in the middle of the garage. Cody could park his truck in the driveway for all I cared. I just didn’t give a damn anymore. I turned off the engine, then just sat there and cried some more. Damn, I'm weak. 

#####

 

My head jerked up when I heard a car pulling into the driveway. When did I fall asleep? I tried to shake the cobwebs from my brain and remember where I was. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror and was shocked to see messy hair, red, puffy eyes, smudged makeup, and the imprint of the steering wheel on my right cheek. I wiped a bit of drool off my chin and saw Cody getting out of his truck in the driveway behind me. 

Oh hell! I knew he was going to be mad at me for looking like a train wreck! He’d always been so particular about how I looked. He said that makeup helped me look more like a “real” woman and less like a butch dyke. I quickly tried to make myself presentable as Cody walked up to my car.

“Babe, why’d you park in the middle of the garage? You know the spot on the right is mine. Get your butt in gear and move your damn car!”

I fought down the urge to obey him. No! Not this time! I took a steadying breath and then slowly got out of my car. 

“Was she worth it, Cody?”

He actually made a valiant effort to look surprised.

“What are you talking about, babe?”

“I saw you with that blonde at the motel, Cody. Don’t act dumb.”

His features slid into the more cunning look I’d grown used to over the years. 

“Fine. I admit I fucked her, and she was good. It’s your fault for not wanting to try new things in bed. You’re a damn cold fish.”. 

He smirked at me, daring me to yell at him. He knew I’d back down like I always did. No, NO! Not this time! I paced up and down the driveway while Cody just smiled at me. He stared at me like a snake, waiting to see what the mouse would do. 

Steeling my resolve, I finally said what I’d been rehearsing in the car. “I’m done, Cody. This is the last time. I’m leaving you. I can’t take this abuse anymore.”

I never saw his fist slam into the side of my head. 

#####

My eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on a lovely, fist-sized chunk of pink granite. I shifted my gaze and noticed a glittering geode right in front of my nose. The facets sparkled in the sun, throwing off tiny rainbows. So pretty. I started to smile but fire lanced through my lower lip. I dragged an arm through the rock garden, destroying Cody’s careful symmetry, and tentatively touched two fingers to my mouth. I stared at my bloody fingers in confusion. My head was pounding, and my hip felt like someone took a few whacks at it with a sledge hammer. Why was I lying in Cody’s rock garden?

The rock garden was a pretty thing. Cody spent hours decorating it with his favorite rock specimens. Every time he took his students on a field trip, he brought back a rock to add to the garden. He took a lot of trips to gem and mineral fairs also. The rock garden just kept growing and growing. Cody said his goal was to take over the whole yard so he didn’t have to cut the damn grass anymore. 

I reached toward the sparkling rocks, just wanting to touch something beautiful. Maybe the pretty rocks would distract me, make the pain go away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cody coming for me again. His face was contorted into an inhuman snarl.

“You aren’t going anywhere, you big, dumb bitch!”

I curled up into a tight ball, trying to protect my face, as Cody rained pain down upon me.

#####

A road sign flashed past me. I don’t remember getting into Cody’s truck, but here I was heading north on Highway 25. I’m going home, damn it! I want to see my family again. I’m done with Cody. 

A little way down the road, I started crying again. 

Stop it! Stop being so damn weak!

I blinked away tears that threatened to blind me. The salty drops burned as they touched the scratches and gashes in my skin. I risked a glance in the mirror and I didn’t even recognize the woman looking back at me. My lower lip was split down the middle and I had crusted blood down my chin. I don’t know if Cody was to blame for that, or if one of the rocks from his garden did it. The rest of my face was a bruised, bloody mess. My long hair was matted with blood and dirt as well. I hated having to deal with long hair. It always got in my way. I only wore it long because Cody liked it that way. He said it made me look more feminine. If I had my way, I’d chop it all off. I might actually do that! Maybe a cute little bob. I bet my sister could help me pick out a hair style. I’ll ask her when I get to Casper. 

Thankfully, the rest area near the little town of Chugwater was almost empty. There were just a few people taking bathroom breaks or walking their dogs. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to talk to me or ask what happened to my face. My hip twinged as I eased out of the driver’s seat. I guess that fall into the rock garden messed me up more than I thought. Mental note: Buy painkillers at earliest convenience. 

I hobbled into the bathroom, then carefully washed the blood off my face. Most of the scratches and bruises seemed to be from falling onto the rocks. I guess I couldn’t totally put the blame on Cody for this. I patted myself dry with paper towels, wincing as I touched the worst of the cuts, then dug around in my purse for my concealer. I thanked the stars that Cody was always so pushy about me wearing makeup all the time. 

After skillful application of a variety of cosmetics, I now looked semi-human. Well, more like the bride of Frankenstein, but it was the best I could manage. Hopefully, I wouldn’t attract too much attention when I had to fill up the truck at a gas station. Cody didn’t even have the decency to have a full tank of gas in the truck. Bastard. 

When I headed back out to the truck, I noticed the damned camper shell door was open. Cody was supposed to get the lock fixed weeks ago. If you hit a bump too hard, the stupid thing popped open. I glanced into the back of the truck while I fiddled with the latch. Sleeping bags, tarps, ropes, rocks (of course), plastic baggies for smaller rock samples, old fast food bags, and empty cans as far as the eye can see.

“Jeez Cody, you’re such a damn pig,” I muttered. 

I finally got the camper shell to stay closed, at least until I hit another bump. I seriously considered buying some bungee cords when I stopped at a gas station. If the door is strapped down to the tail gate, odds are that it’s not going to pop open again. 

#####

Of course, the gas station was totally packed. I should have known. We’re heading into Fall, and it’s one of the last weekends before school starts again. Everybody and their dog is out running the roads, heading to campgrounds and who knows where. 

My fingers drummed on the steering wheel, while I impatiently waited my turn at the crowded pumps. I switched on the heater to give my hands something to do. The sun was setting and I was already noticing the change in temperature. Nights can be quite cool in Wyoming, even in late summer. I wished I’d brought a coat. Hell, I wished I’d packed anything at all. 

I finally got the damned truck filled up, then headed into the gas station to get something cheap to eat. Hopefully, my masterful application of makeup would pass muster with the locals. 

No one screamed “Run for your lives, it’s a monster!”, so I guess I looked all right. I headed back to the truck with my bag of overpriced snacks. The truck radio wasn’t picking up much out here in the boonies, but I finally settled on a country station. At least it calmed my nerves a bit. I munched on my bland, plastic-wrapped sandwich and over-ripe fruit, as I pulled out of the gas station and headed north.

#####

Yup, I’m officially in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but prairie and gently rolling hills as far as the eye can see. The long, golden grass swaying in the wind reminded me of waves on the ocean. The grass rippled and flowed like one massive organism. It was actually quite hypnotic. The monotony was relaxing, but it was threatening to put me to sleep. I really should have bought some coffee at the gas station.

I traveled at a steady pace, letting the other cars pass me in their hurry to be elsewhere. I let my mind drift. I’d have to find a job in Casper, and a place to live. Mom and dad would let me stay at their house for a while, but not forever. I’m sure I could get on with one of the banks, since I had several years of experience. A semi truck came barreling up close behind me and startled me out of my daydreams. 

“What the hell? Why are these guys always in such a damned hurry?”, I grumbled. 

The semi started to pass me, then braked hard and pulled behind me again. There weren’t any oncoming cars, so what was this guy doing? The trucker flicked his lights at me and I started to panic. I felt my heart begin to pound and a cold sweat popped out across my arms, face, and neck.

“What do you want? Is there something wrong with my truck? Is my taillight out?”, I asked the trucker, as if he could actually hear me. 

I tried to calm my frantic breathing and clear my thoughts. What would a passing driver be worried about? Maybe I had a tire that was low. This was an older truck, so it didn’t have all the fancy electronic warnings to let you know when your tire pressure was below normal or your gas cap wasn’t screwed on tight enough. Maybe this guy was just worried about me and was trying to be a good Samaritan. 

“Did the damned camper shell door pop open again?”

The semi pulled up dangerously close, headlights filling the cab of my truck. Through the glare of light, all I could see in my rear-view mirror was a vicious set of teeth designed into the grill. Those teeth made the semi look like a huge, prehistoric shark that was about to devour Cody’s little truck. 

An air horn blast startled me, causing me to jerk the wheel and nearly drive off the road. I swore under my breath as I fought to control the small pickup truck. I was thankful it wasn’t wintertime, or I would have been in a ditch.

“What is your problem, asshole?! Do you want me to stop?…..Wait a minute. For all I know, you’re some kind of rapist or psycho killer! You probably lure women off the road by making them think something’s wrong with their car. They pull over, you rape them, murder them, then chop them into little pieces and bury them out on the prairie! I’m on to you, buddy! There’s no way in hell I’m stopping now!”, I screamed at this unknown trucker. 

In my mind, I’d already convicted him of being a serial killer. I didn’t need a judge or jury. This guy was guilty as hell in my humble opinion.

I continued driving north with the semi tailing me the whole way. He wouldn’t go around me and he wouldn’t back off. If I’d had my cellphone, I damned sure would have called the cops by now! I guessed my cellphone was somewhere in the rock garden, probably smashed to bits. 

The trucker flashed his lights at me again, then pulled right up on my tail. In the fading daylight, all I could see was that monster set of teeth behind me and the glare of his headlights. I’m getting tired of this game. Another blast of the air horn made me nearly jump out of my skin. 

“All right, damn it, I’ve had enough!”

A sign whipped past me, advertising the Orin Junction rest area up ahead. I was only thirteen miles south of the little town of Douglas, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I was going to confront this asshole and see what the hell he wanted. 

I put on my turn signal to let Mr. Psycho know that I was getting off the highway. I barely slowed down, causing the little truck to scream into the parking area with a squeal of tires. At this point, I didn’t give a damn if I ruined Cody’s tires.

The rest stop was deserted and I was angry, so I parked sideways across three parking spots. The trucker followed my example and came to a halt several feet behind me. His powerful headlights filled my truck with their brilliance, nearly blinding me. I squinted into the harsh glare, then cautiously reached behind my seat. I fumbled around in the garbage filling the floorboards and finally pulled out Cody’s rock pick. The sturdy little tool had a sharp pick on one side and a hammer head on the other. It was the only weapon I had, so it would have to do.

I slowly stepped out of the truck and headed toward the semi. The trucker was already out of his vehicle and heading toward me. I gathered up my courage and raised the Geologist’s pick in what I hoped was a threatening manner. 

“What do you want from me?!”, I screamed in challenge.

The trucker jerked back, startled by my fury. He took a few cautious steps backward, not quite sure how to deal with me. I studied the man while he was distracted. He was somewhat short, probably no more than 5’5” or 5’6”. He looked middle-aged, with thinning hair, a long, scraggly beard, and a belly that hung over his belt buckle. 

Yup. He’s totally a rapist/murderer. 

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, while raising his hands in submission. “I don’t mean you no harm. I was tryin’ to stop you cuz there’s someone in the back a’ your truck.”

I stood there in shock, my mouth hanging open. Did some homeless person or psycho crawl into the truck bed while I was getting gas? The gas station was pretty crowded and I left the truck to go buy that nasty sandwich. Or maybe someone got in at that first rest area? The door of the camper shell had been open when I came out of the bathroom! But I didn’t see anything unusual in the back, just a hell of a lot of junk. Was someone hiding under all that sleeping bags and tarps? 

My mind reeled, creating new and horrible scenarios. I could feel a panic attack coming on. No! This is a bad time! Very bad time! Calm your breathing, girl, get yourself under control!

The truck driver noticed my shock and surprise and decided to put his hands down. He visibly relaxed since there seemed to be no imminent danger of being beaten to death by a crazy woman brandishing a tiny pickax. 

“Ma’am? You want me to check it out for you? I can do it, if you’re too scared,” the truck driver kindly offered. 

Too scared? No! I’m not going to be scared of everything anymore!

I finally found my voice and replied, “No, that’s ok. I’ll check it.”

I was still frightened, but I tried to be brave as I crept toward the camper shell covering the back of Cody’s truck. The kindly trucked followed along.

Wait a minute! Maybe this was a trick! Did the trucker want me to go first so he could grab me while my back was turned? Oh-ho! You think you’re smarter than me, Mr. Psycho.

I hunched my shoulders, trying to make myself look smaller, more fragile, which wasn’t easy when you’re this tall. 

“I’m too scared. I just can’t do it. Would you open it for me?” I asked meekly, trying to add a little quaver to my voice. I hoped I was convincing as the damsel in distress, even if I was built more along the lines of a knight in shining armor.

“Don’t you worry, Ma’am, I’ll handle this,” he said gallantly.

The trucker hitched up his pants, then cautiously stepped forward. The ever-present Wyoming wind chose that moment to blow my hair into my face. I frantically clawed it out of my eyes, knowing the trucker could take that opportunity to jump me. When I finally got my eyes clear and spit out a few stray strands, the trucker was standing there, patiently waiting for me to get my follicle malfunction under control. 

I grinned sheepishly at the man, then stepped back a bit so he could open the back of the truck. As the trucker reached for the handle of the camper shell, I noticed a bloody hand print on the inside of the glass. The trucker noticed it too, and stopped for a moment. Steeling himself, he quickly opened both camper shell and tailgate, then leaned inside to investigate. 

“There’s a guy in here and he’s hurt really bad! We need to get him to a hospital!”, the trucker shouted. “Where do you think you picked up this guy, Ma’am?”, he asked, turning toward me.

The hammer side of the Geologist’s pick slammed into the trucker’s face. His right eye socket collapsed under the onslaught. I hit him again, spraying blood all over the tailgate. He pitched forward, almost on top of the other man. I viciously struck him several more times, for good measure.

“I picked him up at my house,” I hissed at the trucker.

I turned my attention to the other man, now moaning softly from the truck bed. 

“Damn it Cody! I thought you were dead already!”, I yelled in exasperation. 

I hit him again and again, taking out years of frustration and pain on this horrible man. The brittle crunching of bone quickly turned to the soft, mushy sound of an overripe melon. I finally decided that was enough.

“Now I have to bury two bodies, Cody! It’s your fault that trucker had to die. You’re nothing but trouble,” I spat out, while trying to catch my breath. If I’d known that beating someone to death was such a workout, I would have joined a gym.

I covered both men with tarps, silently thanking Cody for carrying so much crap in his truck. At least there was a shovel back there too. As I shifted the trucker’s legs up into the truck bed, I knocked something loose. A fist-sized chunk of pink granite rolled to a stop on the tailgate. Blood and a few wisps of Cody’s dark blond hair still clung to the surface. I picked up the rock and cradled it like a puppy.

“I don’t remember putting you in the truck, but it was kind of a blur there for a while. Oh well, I’ll clean you and put you back in the rock garden if I ever go back to that house.” 

Some bottled water and an old rag took care of the bloody hand print on the glass. I didn’t want another Good Samaritan to see anything amiss and stop me. I was tired and annoyed and not in the mood for a repeat performance. I’d eventually need to give the truck and the rock pick a once-over with some bleach, but that could wait for now. I closed the tailgate and camper shell, then walked toward the front of the truck. An exasperated sigh escaped my lips as I slid behind the wheel. Casper was a little over 60 miles from here. If I hurried, I could find a spot out on the prairie, bury the two men, then make it to Casper before my mom and dad went to bed. At least I’d have a warm bed for the night and I was really looking forward to seeing my family again. 

“It’s going to be a busy night, but at least I’m finally going home.”


End file.
